


Domesticity

by lmeden



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/lmeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I want Arthur to say he wants a little 'domesticity' instead of 'specificity' on accident due to a Freudian slip and then instead of making fun of him for it Eames starts doing little sweet things to make Arthur's life a bit more domestic because Eames can tell what Arthur really likes because he is SMART LIKE A FOX you guys. [Sort of.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domesticity

**Author's Note:**

> For photoclerk, after a request on inception_kink.

Arthur is not listening, not really; if given a choice between dreaming and planning he would much rather dream, though he does not hesitate to acknowledge the important of planning within the construction of dreams (and of course the planning of a dream does interest him, and it is what he has allowed himself to dream about at the very moment – that is, he is dreaming up a plan for a very specific dream), and so he is only half paying attention to the conversation taking place around him; adds a comment when required, or when the sheer stupidity of the other conversationalists overtakes his distraction and forced him to speak, at which point he pushes away his dreams and looks up, allowing his vision to clear, like now as he hears the phrase, "That might work," coming from Cobb, and his attention snaps back to the present and he responds - "We're going to need to do a little better than _might_ " – which is such an obvious assertion that he really need not have made it at all, except that it does not seem obvious to those sitting around him, Cobb and Eames and Ariadne, who all seem so perfectly innocent and clueless and _simple_ sometimes - Eames, whom Arthur has been doing his best to ignore, glances over: "Thank you very much for your contribution, Arthur" – and Arthur cannot ignore this slight, this _underestimation_ of his worries, because they are not small things at all, these things that he worries about, his back straightens, and he narrows his eyes at Eames: "Forgive me for wanting a little _**domesticity**_ " - and everything freezes, and it takes him a second to realize it (when Arthur does, he goes very still, and carefully thinks back, dragging himself away from the figures and planning that flood his head and forcing himself to recall - _what had he said?_ , but he doesn't have to think long, because shortly he hears an incredulous drawl, Eames leaning forward, into his gaze, Arthur refusing to look away) " **Domesticity**?" asks Eames, and Arthur wrenches his gaze away (Had he said that had he _really_ said **domesticity** , Goddamnit, he must have, it wasn't exactly a subconscious desire of his – to get out of this business, to settle into a quiet home where nothing happens and all he has to do in life is get up and out of bed, but he knows that that sort of life doesn't suit him (He tried it once, for an entire two weeks; the first day was peaceful and glorious, and the second was less so, by the last, Arthur had been only too glad to return to dreaming, so drained and caught up was he by the tedium and loneliness) – his soul cannot stop craving the peace that **domesticity** offers no matter how logically Arthur knows that it will not satisfy him so he does not correct his hideous slip of the tongue, he just holds Eames' gaze and then stands, turning to Cobb and offering him a withering glare: " _If_ you have any _specifics_ to give me, I'll be in the next room," and with that he slips his jacket off the back of the chair and walks away, suddenly unable to daydream, to let his mind drift away and plan - he wants to get something to drink and maybe something to eat, he wishes that he could sleep normally and dream of trivial things perhaps even his dreams, but that is such a vain hope that he barely allows it to cross his mind, instead shrugs his jacket on and lets the door he has walked thorough (the only in the entire warehouse, he considers, and so the only refuge that he can afford to take at the moment) click closed behind him, looking at one of the old, dusty desks that crowds the warehouse, where he has left piles of papers concerning their mark, walks over to the desk and looks down - the papers are dull, Arthur looks down at them he sees only white space and meaningless black marks (sighing, he sits down, he had thought that perhaps work might focus him, but it seems as if even that plan is to fail, and he would like to go out, but the other team members are in the next room and speaking, probably about him, waiting for his opinion, for him to show his face, to produce embarrassment, really any of the things that Arthur refuses to do), and there is a click behind him and Arthur turns swiftly, nearly knocking over the mountains of processed wood pulp in his haste to see who might have followed him (against his express wishes, or at least emotional projections) as well as who might be laughing at him in the nest room – _Eames_ -, which isn't a surprise, really, so Arthur decides to ignore the the man, who, of course, decides in turn to be contradictory and walk over to him, gently setting a steaming cup of coffee down next to him – "You asked for **domesticity** ," Eames drawls, managing to seem just as contemptuous as he had when questioning Arthur's Freudian Slip earlier – but when Arthur looks up Eames' face is kind, his tone a mere farce, and his lips inches from Arthur's own (it occurs briefly to Arthur that perhaps Eames may have been intending to kiss the top of Arthur's head or something equally ludicrous, which Arthur would have shied away from sooner than allowed), but _this_ he cannot back away from, and Arthur shifts forward to cover those last few millimeters between them, his warm lips coming to rest against Eames' and a small sense of peace spreading through him (and Eames could take this much further, he is known for it really, **domesticity** isn't his thing at all, as Arthur has heard many times from many different sources, but Eames is delicate just now and pulls back and away, and Arthur nearly follows), but Eames takes two short steps back and picks up a pile of messy papers, beginning to organize and straighten them, and as he does he says softly - because everything about Eames has turned soft and it _amazes_ Arthur completely – "Drink your coffee, dear" – and this may be just Arthur's kind of **domesticity** (little moments between battles and planning and running) because he simply rests his eyes on Eames and buries his smile in the scalding cup, and his discomfort and boredom vanishes.


End file.
